It Doesn't Pay
by Wraithfodder
Summary: A trade mission is going well until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. Drama, humor, hurt comfort.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: **It Doesn't Pay**  
AUTHOR: Wraithfodder  
RATING: T  
CATEGORY: Drama and humor and hefty doses of Sheppard whump  
SPOILERS: Second season, no spoilers  
NOTES: Big thanks to KodiakBear for her betaing and assistance.

_Copyright Disclaimer_: The _Stargate Atlantis _characters, as presented on the series, belong to MGM, Sci Fi, and other registered copyright holders. No copyright infringement is meant or intended by the writing and posting of this material. I'm just borrowing the characters and the universe for a piece of non-profit 'fan fiction' and will return in one piece (well, usually). However, all original characters and story material are copyright to author. Please do not repost this fiction, in whole or in part, anywhere, without expression written permission of the author.

_SUMMARY: A trade mission is going well, until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. _

* * *

**PART 1**

Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed.

Or even wake up.

John Sheppard fervently hoped that he would have a tomorrow so he could regret today, and in particular, the last half hour or so.

After the surprise attack, they'd taken his guns, his knife - hell, if it wasn't bolted down on him, they'd taken it. He'd been lucky his arm hadn't come off with the watch, as apparently they didn't understand the concept of watchbands. So as the sky rapidly turned black above, he had no idea how much time had really passed; it was like when you were in a car wreck: the most awful thing in the world was happening to you and something inside your brain goes wonky and you see everything happening in slow motion. It had been very slow when they'd decided to search all his pockets - too eagerly for his taste - and rummaged through his pants. Talk about a few long tense seconds…

He was pinned to the ground and couldn't budge an inch. They definitely saw to that with almost sadistic glee. His radio was now in the hands of the enemy, which wasn't too awful as they had no idea how to operate it, and English sure as hell wasn't their first language. But they also had his guns. The last thing he needed was for one of them to find the safety on the P90 or the .9mm and then accidentally shoot him. Unfortunately the concept of a knife was familiar to them and it didn't take them long to use it on his vest – again, they seemed unfamiliar with zippers so that was one vest down the drain, but at least they hadn't sliced him open in the process.

The leader of his attackers did little more than stand over Sheppard's head, which in itself was a threatening act, since he'd acquired the .9mm gun. He also asserted his dominance over Sheppard with that stance, one that his gang certainly recognized and obeyed. Sheppard had tried a friendly smile but discovered that got nothing more than a hostile grin directed at him, and he sooo didn't want to go in that direction, so he kept his mouth shut, literally. Sheppard really didn't care for stuck in a vulnerably submissive position, with legs and arms spread-eagled and pinned firmly to the dirt by dozens of assailants if not more, especially with the leader waving the .9mm carelessly in his face.

He was really hoping they'd eventually lose interest since nothing on him seemed to be of value to them, unless of course, he was the valuable thing they wanted, and in that case, he might want to conserve all his energy for a burst of sheer unadulterated blind panic when he made his suicidal bid for freedom.

The radio crackled several feet away. Sheppard's eyes immediately darted in that direction, and he noticed that everyone's vision shot in that direction too, although alarm glittered in their large eyes. The radio crackled again – someone trying to reach him – and his assailants' grips intensified on him in reaction.

"Colonel Sheppard? Hello, are you on the way back yet? _Hello_?" sounded McKay's irate and rather loud voice.

A second later, Sheppard truly wished he was dead.

_**

* * *

**__**End of part 1 of 6**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for the feedback :)_

* * *

**It Doesn't Pay...**  
_SUMMARY: A trade mission is going well, until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. _

* * *

**PART 2**

It was a really, really _lovely_ planet and for once, it wasn't some primitive backwards world that didn't even know what the word toilet meant. Yes, they had indoor plumbing, and even their own form of indoor heat. It wasn't quite 20th century Earth, but at least they had houses that kept the outdoors out. Rodney McKay tried not to think of what the Wraith would do to this world, well, what they did to every world, but the Orthrons at least were aware of the threat, and were doing their best to find and trade technologies that could benefit them.

It was one of the few planets they'd visited that knew of the concept of parks. Rodney had been surprised when they'd stepped through the gate not to find just wild bushes growing everywhere, and old rundown barns, but to actually come across a well-manicured path which lead several miles to the village, which in turn lead to a series of paths that led to more villages. The parks were dotted about everywhere on the landscape. Small ones and large ones, where the more unkempt and wild nature blended in on the fringes that bled out toward large rolling hills of trees for as far as the eye could see.

Minister Alethra, a tall and skinny man with deep grey eyes to match the strands of silver in his long brown hair, welcomed Sheppard's team warmly, and was even happier to find out that the weapons they carried were merely for defense against the Wraith. Rodney hadn't noticed much in the way of protection against the Wraith, but Alethra assured them that they had an 'early warning system' for any ground assaults. From the sky, they were as defenseless as any other world.

The initial negotiations went well, and in fact, they went so well that over the next week, even Elizabeth came to visit. She was starting to enjoy the off-world visits and Rodney got the idea that Sheppard liked to show her that, see, yes, he could visit a planet and not start World War III.

The technology they offered, alas, paled in comparison to what they had on Atlantis. They were somewhere on the level of Hoff, and were experimenting to some degree with biochemical research, but nothing like what the Hoffans had been doing, which, Rodney felt had probably doomed the entire planet to total annihilation at the hand of the Wraith, one way or another, which was totally ironic.

Fortunately, despite the pleasantries, it was Sheppard's team's last visit for a while, which was fine by Rodney. No ZedPMs, no high tech, and as much as he liked the parks, it looked like the flowers were going to bloom soon and he did not want to be here for allergy season.

The only problem with the Orthron society was their complicated greeting ceremonies, whether you were coming or going. If you bartered with them, you got stuck with the dinners, the speeches, the long, long-winded speeches. And they had to bid farewell to each member of the team, one at a time. Sheppard went first, and since he was military, he got the short speech, which sat fine with him as he sat there with a grin as he was 'released' from the dinner. He said that since he knew McKay's farewell speech was going to last as long as a bad miniseries, he was going to head to the gate and let Elizabeth know they were coming home. Rodney resisted the urge to stick his tongue at him, or throw a spitball, or anything equally as immature because, as a 'valued' representative, his speech was being left for last.

He thought that Teyla might escape as soon as her farewell ceremony was enacted, but no, she was as unlucky as him because she was also considered Rodney's 'interpreter.' She'd broken down his 'technobabble' once or twice and got stuck with him like a fly to flypaper. And in turn, Ronon got stuck to Teyla because the Minister's wife thought they were a couple, and Teyla was too polite to correct the woman, who doted incessantly on the Satedan.

Rodney's counterpart was wrapping up his speech now. It was dull. It was duller than a spoon used to chip ice for the last century and seem to last as long. Dull, Dull, DULL! Sheppard had sat through the first minute, then tapped Rodney on the shoulder, smiled that infuriatingly irksome smirk and said, "Well, I'm done. See ya!", and left. Just left him! Abandoned him! Whatever happened to 'no man left behind'! Bastard….

"Rodney," Teyla said reproachfully under her breath. "What?" He hadn't said that out loud, had he?

"It is not the colonel's fault he was released first," she sighed. Even Teyla envied him, Rodney could tell. "But you should not think ill of him for that." She arched one eyebrow. "It is very evident on your face what you were thinking."

Crap. He'd have to practice gritting his teeth more or something. At least none of the Orthrons could read minds, or faces.

A round of applause broke out and then the boring scientist ended his speech and came over, bowing in front of Rodney.

Rodney almost said 'about time!' but a hard nudge in his ankle under the table silenced him. "Thank you," he smiled at the boring scientist who was so boring that Rodney couldn't even recall the man's name.

Minister Alethra and his wife, equally thin with flinty blue eyes that always seemed to end up taking in the delights of Ronon's chest, came over to make the final, but thankfully, short farewells.

"Will the colonel not be joining you for the trip back?" asked Iale, the minister's wife, who seemed to finally pry her vision off the Satedan. _No, he's fled, skipped the country, left us high and dry and in the lurch_, Rodney wanted to scream, but instead, Teyla spoke up, which honestly did save them from the terrible embarrassment of him speaking his mind.

"Yes, the colonel did say he would be back," she said, frowning slightly as she looked at her watch. "He went to the gate and said he would return after he checked in with Dr. Weir."

"He's probably found some young lass who's taken a fancy to him," suggested Iale.

God forbid, thought McKay. These Pegasus Galaxy women. Why couldn't they keep their paws off Sheppard? Better yet, why couldn't they put their paws on him? Rodney shrugged off the thoughts – who needed an ulcer? – and instead tapped hard on his radio. "Colonel Sheppard. Hello, are you on the way back yet? _Hello_?"

Silence, then a horrible scream - so unearthly that if Rodney hadn't had the radio secured to his vest he would have dropped it – emitted loudly from the radio.

"Oh my god," McKay uttered in shock.

"That wasn't—" Ronon stopped dead in his words. No, that couldn't have been Sheppard. That's what the man meant to say, that Sheppard couldn't scream like that.

"Oh dear," said the wife, her eyebrows drawn down in a sharp point.

"_Oh dear_?" parroted Rodney in anger. None of the Orthrons looked horrified like the team did – that Sheppard might have just been murdered or that this was all a terrible ruse and the man wasn't being tortured for gate codes or something while the rest of them were eating dessert.

"Colonel Sheppard would not walk off the path, would he?" Minister Alethra asked very seriously.

Rodney shook his head in shock. What? They were asking if Sheppard would do what? "Stay on what path?" The path to the straight and narrow?

"The stone path back to the gate." Alethra turned to one of his aides, whispered something and the young man ran off. "The one that you came to our village upon, of course."

"How should I know? Sheppard's got a lousy sense of direction," muttered Rodney under his breath. "But I'm sure he'd stay on the path."

Teyla tried her radio, but to no avail. Ronon was getting angrier as each second passed his radio call also went unanswered.

"He would not try to take a short cut?" Alethra sounded mortified at the idea.

My god, these people were going to nitpick them to death with the same question! Rodney was beginning to think that shortcut might be Sheppard's middle name. John Shortcut Sheppard. We'll just cut through here, get lost, and stumble on the Genii's hidden nuclear hideout.

Ronon withdrew his gun from the holster in one slick, violent motion.

"No!" shrieked Iale, physically grabbing the gun. Considering how small she was and how big Ronon was, it was a suicidal move, but the Satedan actually had the smarts not to send her flying and start an interplanetary war.

"If the colonel strayed off the path, then it is too late," said the Minister, his face masked with worry. "There has not been an attack in many, many months."

"Attack?" The team's voices collided in worry.

_**End of part 2 of 6**_


	3. Chapter 3

**It Doesn't Pay...**  
_SUMMARY: A trade mission is going well, until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. _

* * *

**PART 3**

McKay's voice had been like dropping a match in a fireworks factory. Bedlam and utter panic had ensued, but Sheppard wasn't one to lie there and get murdered, so he made a break for freedom. He moved a total of three inches before they all pounced on him again and pinned him fiercely to the ground. When he looked up, the leader was staring down at him, holding the gun. A second later, Sheppard felt the butt of the weapon smash straight into his forehead.

* * *

The Minister seemed averse to answering their questions until Ronon moved right up in front of him. The man's considerable bulk and menacing growl would scare anybody, but instead, the Minister was saved from cowering like a small child when several people ran up to join them.

All five of them were clad in odd jump suits which looked as though they were made of Tyvek. Teyla remembered being introduced to that strange fabric on Atlantis. It was used when there were chemical or hazardous spills, although she could not fathom the purpose at this very moment. All wore heavy gloves. Three of them carried large buckets with lids on them, a fourth carried a large black bag of some sort, while the leader of the group - a small, short woman with deep brown eyes and angular eyebrows that gave her a hawkish appearance - walked up to the Minister. She conversed quickly but too quietly for the Atlanteans to hear, then turned to Teyla and the others.

The woman, who then introduced herself as Keeper Wallas, glared at the gun in Ronon's hands. "No weapons. Do you want to get your friend killed?" When Ronon didn't reholster the weapon, the woman simply pointed at the holster. "Now, or stay behind. The longer you make us wait, the worse it will be for your man."

Ronon shared a questioning glance at Teyla. He'd come to respect her judgment in situations such as this, as she had known Sheppard for longer and what he would want. She nodded and he reluctantly put the gun away.

"Right then," Wallas announced. "Stay behind us." She picked up to a quick jog, her people following while McKay tried to keep up. Teyla spied him talking with the man who was carrying the black bag.

"Why do you need a bag?" asked Rodney in worry.

"To pick up the pieces, of course," the man replied matter-of-factly.

* * *

Dead. Dead. He so wanted to be dead at this very moment. No, wait, he didn't want to be dead. He wanted to kill McKay. This was all the scientist's fault!

Now he had a headache on top of everything else, but the leader hadn't struck him hard enough to crack his skull, just enough to leave a bruise and give him a headache, or maybe a subdural hematoma, but he wasn't sure if he could get those on the forehead. And of course, it had been to put Sheppard in his place, which was back to being squashed into the dirt.

The pain all over his body was slowly subsiding. When the panic had ensued, they'd all grabbed him as though he was the only thing keeping them from floating off. He knew he'd have a hundred or so bruises all over him, that is, if they ever let him go.

The only good thing that resulted from the disastrous last minute or so was that help was on the way. He'd heard one of them key the radio just after McKay called but before the freakout.

Help would be here, real soon. He was sure of that.

And it couldn't possibly get any worse. That is, until he felt the left boot being ripped off his foot. They'd taken the right boot off minutes after the initial attack The sock went next. The supply sergeant was gonna have a fit if he got back alive. The horrible ripping sound of the sock being shredded into tiny pieces echoed in the dark night air. Sheppard was beginning to wonder just how much uniform was left as he couldn't see what they were doing and the air was warm enough he couldn't really tell where skin had been bared and where it still lay covered.

For pete's sake, he wasn't that far from the village. Maybe fifteen minutes! Surely Ronon could cover that distance in record time and come here and shoot the whole lot of them. It ticked him off that his team would have to rescue his sorry ass out of this mess.

Sheppard suddenly held his breath as a new sensation trailed down one side of his foot. Something sharp and smooth ran down the bare instep. It felt almost like ivory or plastic, but then, something wet, slimy, and warm wrapped around his big toe.

A tongue.

Oh shit… they were going to _eat_ him!

Screw it! If they were going to kill and eat him, he was making a break for it, yet suddenly, as if they could read his very thoughts, several hands dug into his hair and pinned him down hard and then he felt—

* * *

Everybody stopped in their tracks when a horrible scream tore through the air. The anguished cry echoed wildly though the copses of trees that comprised the thick park. A second later, there was only silence and desolation.

"You said they wouldn't hurt him!" accused McKay, who looked around wildly. For once, his alien technology wasn't doing him any good as the park was packed with so much wildlife that it was impossible to locate Sheppard.

"He'll be fine." Wallas ran a short ways up the winding path, then stopped at one of the many forks in the path they'd encountered. She stared at the sign – written in their language so there was no way that Sheppard could have deciphered it. She crouched near it, studied it for a second and then stood. She let loose with an irate stream of words that Ronon figured had to be the local variants of swear words.

"The damned Lenguons moved it again!" she growled in disgust, then she pointed down the left path. "That way."

Ronon immediately took off at a run.

"Stop!" Wallas demanded sharply but Ronon wasn't going to listen to orders from the bureaucratic nitwit with her bucket brigade. Sheppard was probably being slaughtered by the creatures and could be dying while they stared at signs.

Ronon was accustomed to running in the dark but the trees were thick, the few patches of moonlight that slipped through were minimal, and several minutes later, he nearly tripped over an object. He pulled out his flashlight and aimed the beam on the object. It was part of one of Sheppard's boots. Toothmarks liberally dotted all the ragged edges.

"Sheppard!" he called out.

The path had stopped, going from a neat cobblestone pattern to dirt, and that's when Ronon discovered Sheppard's footprints, and then, the animal tracks - dozens, literally dozens if not more tracks, all over the place. His weapon out and on stun, Ronon cautiously crept around a large shaggy bush, expecting the worst.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks as nothing he'd witnessed before truly prepared him for this sight.

It was a seething mass of large, round green orbs – hundreds of them – staring directly at him. Hundreds - which meant perhaps a hundred of the creatures, their retinas reflecting back a brilliant green from the flashlight's wide beam. The creatures were all deathly still and quiet. He knew a standoff when he saw one, and he was vastly outnumbered. The mass of creatures spread out at least twenty feet, and could be just as deep. Ronon couldn't see Sheppard anywhere but could see the evidence that he was somewhere nearby – one of the creatures had an emergency medical bandage wrapped around the top of its tiny head like a hat. There were literally dozens of bits of fabric scattered everywhere.

A strange noise began. A thrumming sound, low but deep, emitting from the creatures. A moment later, as he heard McKay and the others catch up to him, Ronon watched the animals begin to bob up and down in place in an almost hypnotic fashion.

Ronon aimed his gun at the mass. "Sheppard!" he called again.

"Quiet!" The keeper woman hissed beside him. The demand was followed by a swift slap on his wrist. Literally, a slap on the wrist!

"I'll handle this." She pushed past him. "I've had to do this before." She turned on her heel, facing him with an expression of exasperation. "Unless you plan to shoot me?"

Ronon glared at her, realizing that she was the supposed expert. But if things went wrong, that would be it. He wasn't taking prisoners and he would easily stun her just to shut her up.

"Nobody move and do _not_ talk," she said quietly but with such menace that everybody seemed suitably cowed.

All of the animal's eyes shifted from Ronon to the shorter woman as she approached them. With all the flashlights aimed at the living mass, the scene was now starkly laid out for all to see.

The animals were all bipedal. "_Monkeys_?" he heard McKay hiss beside him in an incredulous voice. No more than a foot tall, they all stood on stout little legs. Their bodies were covered with thick black fur, with the exception of their faces. Their jaws and nose area were covered with a light blue fur. That fur seemed to tuft out along the jaw line on the bulk of the animals, except for a handful clustered in the middle. They all had longer, more reddish fur on their face. But what they all had in common was the fabric: little pieces of fabric dotted on them – on their heads, or bodies – but definitely small shreds of what had once been a dark gray uniform.

The Wallas woman moved closer in short, determined strides. She stared at the mass, which was still thrumming and bobbing but staring at her. "You've been bad," she said in a droll tone.

"That's it?" McKay squeaked. "Shoot them!" He nudged Ronon hard in the back. A second later he heard a smack, an "Ow!" and he knew Teyla had dealt with McKay.

"BAD!" The woman bellowed at the top of her lungs.

The entire mass of animals flattened to the ground, except for a middle area which looked as though they were hunched over a slight mound.

"BAD! BAD! BAD!" Wallas continued yelling, waving her arms out to the side.

The animals all screeched, running in blind panic everywhere. In less than five seconds they were gone. They'd scampered in any available direction – to the left, right, front, back, through the legs of the humans and into bushes, trees but definitely into the darkness and away from the insane woman ranting "Bad! Bad! Bad!"

"See, they know who's boss," the woman smacked her hands together in satisfaction. She looked down at the ground and what remained behind. "What a mess."

"Oh no." McKay sounded ready to faint and for once, Ronon couldn't blame the man.

Scattered everywhere were bits of uniform, most of them no bigger than a thumbprint, like gray snow on the ground. The shredded remnants of a PowerBar wrapper glistened like confetti in the flashlight beams. Bits of shoelace could be seen hanging from a nearby bush. Ammo had been yanked out of the weapons. The holster and belt were in jagged pieces. Even the watch had been taken apart. All that remained in one piece were the weapons. The P90 lay just a foot away from Sheppard's outstretched arm… The man was spread out on the ground like a sacrifice to some unknown god. A slick reddish liquid covered nearly all of his body. He didn't move.

_**End of part 3 of 6**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay; was unable to load document, then... the power went out for half a day._

**It Doesn't Pay...**  
_SUMMARY: A trade mission is going well, until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. _

* * *

**PART 4**

Ronon unlatched McKay's grip from his arm and quickly approached Sheppard.

"Don't touch him!"

What was it with that woman? Ronon disregarded her order until he was within three feet of Sheppard and then stopped, his nose wrinkling up in revulsion. What was that stench? It was worse than a Caldenian cesspit!

He backed up, smack into McKay and Teyla, whom he nearly knocked over, but they too retreated as a gentle night breeze sent the overwhelming stench right at them.

"Just shoot me," croaked a voice. Several of Sheppard's fingers twitched on one hand, then the eyes cracked open. "Put me out of my misery now."

"You're not dead," said Wallas dryly, "and you probably don't have a scratch on you."

Diplomatic relations or not, Ronon was ready to throttle the callous woman. The man was obviously covered in—

"It's not blood," Wallas finished.

Sheppard pulled himself into a seated position. A glop of something brown and gooey fell off his hair and landed in his lap. His head was plastered with the stuff.

"I'm going to need months of therapy to get over this," he muttered. He swiped the glop away and shuddered. What was left of his shirt just seemed to fall off as he straightened up and it was evident that most of his skin was plastered with streaks of red and yellow liquid..

"That's not what I think it is?" McKay said in utter disgust.

"_McKay_."

Sheppard's voice was low and deadly. He swiveled his head enough so he could pinpoint McKay's voice; he couldn't really see the scientist because of all the flashlights shining on him.

"Colonel?" McKay was suddenly wary.

"Come here."

"Why?" Even Ronon knew Sheppard was up to something the scientist wasn't going to like.

Sheppard ran a hand through his glopped hair and ended up with a healthy amount of the stuff in his hand. He suddenly threw it in McKay's direction. Everybody scattered as if he'd thrown acid.

"Hey!" McKay shouted in horror.

"Colonel!" Teyla shot back in a very angry voice, and for a brief moment, Sheppard looked suitably chastised for his childish action. A second later, the frown settled back on his face and it looked like it was going to stay there for the duration.

"I was covered with all these damned monkeys," Sheppard glared into the woods.

"Lenguons," corrected Wallas authoritatively.

"I don't care if they were leprechauns," shot back Sheppard irritably. "And who the hell are you anyway? The damned things were just ripping up my uniform and leaving me alone until you had to call, Rodney. And do you know what happened when you called?"

Ronon noticed that the three people with the buckets had removed the lids, while the fourth was unraveling a large black bag.

"When they freaked out, they pissed all over me! It was like someone opened up the floodgates!" seethed Sheppard. "And then to just top it off, the damned things rubbed crap in my hair!"

The colonel's hands gripped empty air in frustration. He let out an inarticulate scream of frustration, which sounded similar to the scream that had drawn them to this particular spot. It was followed almost immediately by a cacophony of howls and screams from the surrounding woods.

Almost everyone looked around in trepidation, especially Sheppard, whose eyes just widened in alarm as he grabbed the P90, only to discover the bullets had been removed. Ronon placed his hand quickly on the butt of his weapon.

"No worry," the Wallas woman assured everyone as she walked up to Sheppard. "You just got initiated into their clan. They were just answering you back."

"I'm not part of any damned monkey clan," Sheppard argued, aiming his eyes back into the dark. "And you're a dead man, Rodney."

Ronon felt McKay actually hide behind him. "You won't let him hurt me, will you?" he whispered.

"Depends," replied Ronon with a smile, but if Sheppard lobbed anymore Lenguon crap, he was getting out of the way. McKay was on his own then.

"So the Lenguons weren't trying to hurt the colonel?" said Teyla curiously.

"No," replied Wallas. "They've never hurt anyone, not really."

"Excuse me?" Sheppard's voice was sharp and more than a bit stressed. "I was mugged. They jumped me out of nowhere, knocked me to the ground, ripped off my clothes, pistol-whipped me," at which point he gestured toward his forehead, "and chewed on my toes and you're saying they're harmless? What fantasyland do you live in, lady?"

Ronon noticed a slightly strange look cross the short woman's face, but it vanished quickly as she focused on the business at hand.

"Where's Carson and his happy pills when you need him?" muttered McKay.

"And why is all of this…red?" Sheppard shook out his hands in disgust. More bits of sodden uniform fell off. Ronon was pretty sure there wasn't much uniform left at all.

"They were eating the jorjora berries," explained Wallas. "When they ferment, it makes the Lenguon a bit bolder than usual."

"No, really?" Sheppard's sarcasm was in full rant mode. Another glop of excrement fell off his hair into his lap and Sheppard smacked it off. His hand caught on some shredded fabric that he promptly ripped off. He was about to toss it, but instead stopped for a second, staring oddly at the strip hanging from his fingers. Ronon didn't see anything terribly exciting about it, except that the yellow and red stained fabric looked like something blue and white striped.

"Uh, that looks like…" McKay trailed off, coughing. "Never mind."

Sheppard's face suddenly registered alarm and he dropped the cloth. He pulled his legs together and pinned both hands between his legs at a strategic juncture. "Just _great_. There's goes my last shred of dignity, _and_ clothing," he muttered darkly under his breath.

"Lenguons have a habit of marking other members of the clan," explained Wallas as the two people with buckets stood on either side of Sheppard. The colonel stared at them with the same undisguised apprehension that he'd give a Wraith moving in for a snack.

"You might want to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment," advised Wallas.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"This will help contain the smell."

"For god's sake, let them do it," sounded McKay. "You stink to high heaven. Elizabeth'll never let you back."

Sheppard glared at McKay and nearly raised a hand to make a gesture at the man until he realized just what that action might be exposing. "And would whoever is aiming that flashlight at my crotch, stop it!" he demanded.

The light went off, and Ronon was sure, glancing off to the side, that it was the Minister's wife who'd been risking diplomatic relations. She'd been ogling him ever since they'd gotten to this planet. Funny how Sheppard had thought it highly amusing that the older woman had glommed onto Ronon. Bet Sheppard wasn't laughing now.

A second later, the buckets were tossed. Ronon had at first been positive they'd douse the colonel with water to wash off the foul concoction of excrement and urine - although throwing him in one of the tiny ponds dotted around the area would probably be better - but it wasn't water. Instead, a cloud of white powder enveloped the man.

The cloud settled a few seconds later. Sheppard let out a weak, hacking cough and opened his eyes. He was covered head to toe in the coarse white powder, which was slowly turning an orange color as it soaked into the slick mess on his body.

"No, I was wrong. This is my last shred of dignity just going down the drain," he ground out.

Another person in one of those strange white suits handed Wallas a sheet, which she in turn gave to Sheppard, who stared at it blankly for a moment.

"If you wouldn't mind standing up, we need to get the soaking powder all over you and since you're sitting…" she pointed out.

Sheppard emitted an audible sigh, one that just reeked of defeat. He stood up and more scraps of uniform fell off, but at least he had the sheet to provide strategic coverage. One of the bucket people stood behind him and lobbed the powder all over him.

"Hey!" Sheppard began to turn but quickly wrapped the sheet around his waist instead.

"Had to get it in everywhere," Wallas said knowingly.

"I did ask someone to shoot me, didn't I?" Sheppard secured the sheet around his waist, then gathered up the rest of the cloth so he wouldn't trip over it and add to the humiliation. "Now what? I just stand here till I dry?"

Ronon stared at Sheppard. The man looked pathetic, put out, pissed off, and totally ridiculous, all covered in white and wrapped in a sheet while he turned orange. Ronon let out a laugh and even Teyla couldn't stop from joining in, as their relief was so great that the colonel was unharmed.

"Really, can this get any worse?" moaned Sheppard, looking up at the night sky. "Can it?"

_**End of part 4 of 6**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Here are the final chapters. Enjoy!**

**It Doesn't Pay...**  
_SUMMARY: A trade mission is going well, until Sheppard is brutally attacked by some locals. _

* * *

**PART 5**

Elizabeth knew she was going to lose the game of checkers because there was no way Carson was going to let her win, not with the stakes being so high. If she won, the physician would have to fork over a shot glass full of his aged malt Scotch, and although she was the strategist, he was highly possessive of that new bottle. The one bottle he'd brought with him from Earth on the original trip through the gate had been broken into after they'd survived the Wraith siege against Atlantis.

The gate sounded – a moment later the technician verified that it was Rodney's code coming through. She concluded the game quickly, and now owed Carson a neck rub, redeemable at any time.

Rodney, Teyla and Ronon came through the massive portal. A moment later, it shut down. Unease flowed through Elizabeth. Where was John?

Carson followed her quick descent down the wide stairs to where she quickly confronted the trio, all of whom had the oddest expressions on their faces.

"Where is Colonel Sheppard?" she asked cautiously.

"Um, he's going to be staying on Blanat for about two weeks," said Rodney, who quickly turned to his companions, who nodded their heads in agreement.

Carson crossed his arms. "Why?"

"There was an incident," said Rodney. He flashed a smile but it really wasn't working.

Elizabeth knew that something not very good had occurred – and her mind was filling with visions of botched negotiations, or the wrong word said to the wrong person – yet this could not be a true disaster because Ronon looked totally nonplussed at the situation. Had Sheppard been in a dire situation, the Satedan would not have left his side.

"The colonel is basically fine," added Rodney. "Except he's locked up."

_Oh god, Sheppard was in jail?_ Elizabeth knew the whole trading mission had been too good to be true.

Teyla frowned. "Rodney, you know that is not true," she countered. "He can come and go as he pleases."

"Please," snorted Rodney. "As if they're going to let him wander around like that, and besides, he's got no clot-- Oh wait!" The scientist patted down his vest pockets, withdrawing a small notepad. "Ah, we need to send a few things back. Let's see, surgical gloves, plastic bags, Sergeant Carstairs' iPod, and oh, Elizabeth, in about two weeks, there aren't any missions scheduled that are purely scientific but are definitely off-world?"

"Coward." Ronon had a devilish grin on his face.

"Excuse me, live coward," defended Rodney uncomfortably. I didn't see Sheppard threatening to hug you!"

"That's it," interrupted Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing and all humor vanishing from her voice. "All of you, into the briefing room. I want a full rundown of just what's going on."

**PART 6**

Over the years, he'd learned a few things that you never did. Never hold onto a hand grenade past the allotted count. Never walk in front of a speeding military supply truck, and never, repeat never, utter aloud the words, "Can it get any worse?" because by doing that, you tempt fate and rain down the vengeance of some unknown god who goes "oh look, an idiot."

At least his team hadn't abandoned him on the trek back to civilization, albeit everybody kept judiciously _upwind_ of him. He wasn't about to go back through the gate covered in what looked and felt like cement dust and a sheet. He felt like the victim of a college hazing gone bad.

Rodney was still keeping his distance, making sure that Ronon was always somewhere between him and Sheppard, yet the initial anger Sheppard had experienced had evaporated and now he just felt crappy, which was an exceedingly bad pun considering what he knew still was mashed into his hair. But, at least Rodney wasn't making any bad jokes about it, so if letting McKay think he was going to get the hug of death – that had been a cruel threat to make – so be it.

But right now tormenting Canadian scientists for bad timing was the least of his worries. Getting to a shower to wash off the stench was his number one priority. They arrived at a small warehouse type structure, and it took Sheppard a moment to realize they'd deviated off the path they'd originally taken to the village and were in a whole new area that looked pretty isolated.

That's how distracted he'd become with the stench and the awful feeling of unmentionable monkey excrement sliding slowly down his neck.

"You can stay here." Wallas pointed her arm at the building. It was then that Sheppard looked around. Where the hell had the Minister and his wife gotten to?

"Stay?" inquired Teyla.

"Ten days probably," the shorter woman replied. "It will take at least that long for the smell to dissipate." She swung open the door and turned on the light. McKay was the first to peer in. "How… charming."

And he'd really had no choice. His team practically revolted at the idea of him returning to Atlantis. Rodney muttered something about fumigating the gateroom and Teyla was talking about fleeing to the mainland. After his team compared him to every malodorous thing they could think of, Sheppard just threw up his arms in defeat. Everybody backed off several more feet, no doubt scared he'd splatter them with something disgusting.

Unfortunately the accommodations were … sparse. The room that had not at all impressed McKay was about 20' x 30' in size, with rough concrete type flooring, thick wooden walls that reached up about seven feet before they turned into glass windows that connected to the ceiling. All the windows were covered with thick wire gridwork.

Oh, the windows could be opened with some pulley things so it was possible to get a nice breeze going through, and vent out the stench. It was a storeroom for crops, hence the protective window coverings to keep out the local wildlife. Luckily the crops wouldn't be harvested for another several weeks so he could bunk down there.

Oh yes, how lucky for him. He then discovered that the white gunk they'd dumped on him didn't do a thing to rid him of the smell; it was just to mask the stench until they could get him here. It would take a while to wash it all off. Wallas showed him the shower off to the side in another smaller room. Too bad it didn't have a tub but at least it had running water and cold and hot knobs, and heck, he'd certainly used more primitive facilities on Earth.

And, Wallas added drolly as one of her aides dragged in what looked like old metal lawn furniture, anything he touched would get contaminated with the smell, even after he showered so… He'd have to make do with what the smell could be scorched off of - hence, the wrought iron chaise lounge piece of furniture.

Any clothing he wore would also have to be destroyed and in situations like this, they just 'made do.' Ronon chuckled when Sheppard was told he'd have to 'make do' with sheets until the smell disappeared. Ten days wrapped in nothing but a sheet!

The humiliation factor just continued to escalate. Once he was settled in - which took about five minutes to hand him sheets, be told to lock the door from the inside at night and that he shouldn't keep the windows open at night either, Wallas left. Ten minutes later his team decided to escape too, saying there was nothing they could do as they backed away. At least he got Teyla's radio set (which Rodney wrapped in a plastic bag he had tucked away in his vest pocket) before they left. He also managed to snag the few PowerBars they had on hand, because he knew he wasn't going to be going into town for lunch, that's for sure.

As the days dragged on, he noticed several things. The stench was slowly dissipating. The constant showers did help a bit even if the soap was a bit on the rough side. The discoloration all over his body from the stupid berries also faded faster if he sat out in the sun, at which time he discovered that the sheets they provided him weren't exactly the sturdiest. When Elizabeth came to visit the next day and he began pacing around outside griping about the whole sorry mess, she stared at him oddly for a moment, then began studying the grass with intense interest. She asked him if he remembered the infamous photograph of Princess Diana. He had no idea what she was talking about, until she pointed out he should really not stand with the strong sun behind him as it really left little to the imagination. As if the berry stains hadn't left him red enough like some bad Jackson Pollack painting, the embarrassment just added to it as he went back into the room and wrapped two more sheets around himself.

But at least she'd brought Cartstairs' iPod, so he could entertain himself with music. It was rumored the sergeant had one of the biggest music collections on Atlantis stuffed away on that little device. She'd left pretty quickly - lasted only 15 minutes but might have stayed longer if the wind hadn't shifted.

And that was the last he'd seen of her. In fact, now that he had a radio and they established regular call-in times to check on him, nobody was keen on actually visiting him. Rodney was still under the delusion he'd be killed or worse, while Teyla and Ronon were more than content to just talk over the radio. Beckett came by just once in order to check on the bump on his head from the 'pistol whipping' which was nothing more than a nasty bruise. The physician had left pretty quickly, muttering some homegrown Scottish imprecations under his breath.

Talk about being a pariah!

Until the night time hours, that is. It hadn't taken long to understand why he needed to shut the glass windows, even if the temperatures were just fine. The damned Lenguons had found out where he was sequestered. First, they'd try to rattle the door off its hinges. When that failed, they'd climb up the outside walls and peer down through the windows. It was a few of the creatures at first, reaching their furry little arms through the grids and trying in vain to rip through the metal, but after two days he felt like that character in the old horror movie, _The Last Man on Earth_, where vampires came each night to incessantly demand he come outside and join them. The Lenguons would just make this pathetic keening noise which instead drove him to drag the chaise lounge thing into the bathroom and lock himself in there for the rest of the night.

It had been unfortunate timing that he'd been on the radio with Elizabeth and the rest of the team for an impromptu briefing the next day when Wallas came by with some food. It was sort of drop and run as even though she was accustomed to the smell, it didn't mean she liked it. So he asked her what the hell the Lenguons were doing every night, and why the leader kept banging his head on the glass and staring at him. Wallas almost snickered, then politely explained that the leader was a she and that when the pack had initiated him into the clan, they'd also marked him as a potential mate for their leader. That's why they'd been 'chewing' on his toes. An incredulous howl of "_the monkey's got the hots for him_?" echoed over the radio. He'd forgotten to turn the damn thing off! There was some discussion he couldn't make out, then everybody back in Atlantis' briefing room burst out laughing. "You are so dead, Rodney!" he snapped, shutting off the radio.

After that, he limited his contact with Atlantis to once a day, because he got tired of everybody asking how his new 'girlfriend' was doing. Thank God that Carstairs had good taste in music as the mournful Johnny Cash ballads set his mood perfectly at that point.

But now…

Sheppard shrugged the dark gray jacket over the black T-shirt, so grateful to be back in uniform again. He'd gotten darned tired of schlepping around with just a sheet between him and the elements. It was on the ninth day that Wallas had come by, sniffed at him, left and come back with a few other folk he'd never seen before, who also sniffed at him. He felt like a piece of cheese in a supermarket! Instead, they proclaimed him clean and he could go home. Finally! It wasn't as though he could really tell any more as he was sure the wretched stench had destroyed his sense of smell.

Lorne had shown up with a new uniform in hand, which Sheppard grabbed, went inside and quickly changed into. Damn, he'd also forgotten what shoes felt like. He was so used to walking around barefoot in the dirt. Another reason he'd been taking a lot of showers.

Sheppard also managed, with a smile and one or two idle threats, to get Lorne to spill the beans on any gossip back on Atlantis. It didn't sound like Elizabeth had said anything about the regrettable sheet incident. Thank God.

Even though the walk back to the gate was in broad daylight and the Lenguon were nocturnal, Sheppard still cast a wary eye at the trees. Despite the time that had passed, the attack was still fresh in his mind and he didn't intend to get stripped down to his birthday suit by some amorous little creature and her minions.

In hindsight, it was a pretty ingenious system. The parks weren't there just for beauty. They were the Orthron version of a distant early warning system, a demilitarized zone and instead of land mines, they had Lenguons, roving hordes of extremely territorial and in some cases, highly possessive little primates. What they lacked in size they made up for in sheer numbers. Wallas had explained that the hills were filled with probably thousands of them. And that's why the paths were so meandering. A straight path from the gate to the village would take a lot less time, but it was also through the woods and Lenguon territory. He never did find out what happened to the other people who'd been attacked, and for some reason, he really didn't want to know. He figured they might have gone nuts as the animals had been clinging to the windows until dawn broke that very morning.

Fortunately Sheppard was able to pass along his good-byes and thanks to an Orthron aide, thus avoiding some drawn-out farewells from the Minister, who anyway had done all his communication via an unlucky young aide who would drop by once every day or so.

When he stepped through the gate, his very first thought was that he was in Atlantis and those blasted Lenguons were on another planet a _million _miles away. When the blue vortex closed behind him, he heaved a sigh of welcome relief. Home, safe, soft bed, no prying eyes gawking at him from above all night.

Elizabeth came down the steps that led down from the control center, and seconds later his team arrived. They all stopped several feet away, and he would have thought that Lorne having brought him back was proof enough he was 'clean.' Everybody was eyeing him with a healthy amount of suspicion, but it all dissolved when Teyla came up first, giving him a brief hug. "It is good to see you back, John."

"Hey, you don't stink anymore."

Leave it to Ronon to get to the crux of the matter.

Rodney wrinkled his nose slightly. "Well, you look and smell a lot better."

"Glad I meet with your stamp of approval," Sheppard remarked dryly. He noticed that the distance Rodney was maintaining had more to do with the other matter rather than offensive smells. "Um, about the clearing and the, uh…" Sheppard sort of waved his hand

"Uh, yeah," muttered Rodney, looking down in feigned interest at the datapad in his hands.

"Well, you know…" added Sheppard, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

"Temporary insanity." Rodney nodded emphatically, then shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, that's settled."

"Yup," agreed Sheppard happily. He didn't care if Elizabeth practically rolled her eyes at their bizarre conversation. Neither man was really big at public apologies.

"Must be nice to come back to sheets with higher thread counts," Elizabeth said rather innocently.

Sheppard felt his mouth go dry, panic nibble at his mind, but did his best to just smile lazily. "Uh yeah, you could say that."

"That's good." Elizabeth arched one eyebrow. "We'll have a briefing at 1500 hours for a mission in three days."

Sheppard just nodded and she departed without another word. He sighed inwardly in relief and hoped that was the end of that. Rodney came up beside him, looking suspiciously at both Weir and then Sheppard. "What was that about?"

"They need fabric softener," Sheppard decided to say, which seemed to satisfy McKay, at least for the moment. "Look, I'm just going to head to my room for a sec, then go down and grab some, uh…" Out of habit, he looked down at his wrist, but it was bare. He'd lost the watch they'd given him to track time for the calls from Atlantis. He'd accidentally left it outside and the Lenguons had snatched it during the night. It was probably in a hundred pieces by now.

"Lunch," supplied Rodney helpfully.

"Yup, grab some lunch." Sheppard grinned, thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches and other food he'd found he missed rather sorely during his absence. "Meet you guys down there?"

Everybody nodded. As he headed back to his room, he savored the fact that he was in a city surrounded by water with no trees, and definitely no wildlife. He ran across a number of personnel along the way who just nodded or said hello or, better yet, completely ignored him.

However, the whole damned fiasco was now in the past. He flicked on the lights as he entered his room.

Or not.

There on his bed, nestled in front of his pillows, sat a stuffed toy monkey with its arms wrapped around a large red paper heart, on which someone had scrawled in big bold letters 'I miss you!'

Yes, it was going to be a _very_ long three days until he went off-world again.

**_THE END_ **

**_Yes, this story was inspired by a true life incident – so I can borrow (cough cough) the adage of Law & Order's 'ripped from the headlines' theme at about baboons in the UK..._**


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